


Twenty

by MagitekUnit05953234



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Aftermath of Changing Fate, Angst I guess, Dissociation, Episode Ignis Verse 2, Everybody Lives, Gen, Minor mention of blood, Post-Episode Ignis Verse 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-08-03 03:49:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16318571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagitekUnit05953234/pseuds/MagitekUnit05953234
Summary: “Noct, are you alright?”Everything iswrong.





	Twenty

**Author's Note:**

  * For [valkyrial](https://archiveofourown.org/users/valkyrial/gifts).



> Written for the prompt "clock hands" from ao3 user valkyrial because raneam-o1's prompt list has a free day and I need Structure.  
> Ended up being about time... sorta.  
> Note: takes place after Episode Ignis Verse 2 ending.

Noctis is twenty years old.

His clothes don't fit. That feels like the weirdest thing, but that might just be because it's unavoidable. His shirts are too tight around the shoulders and his jackets don’t close around his chest easily.

Noctis stands in front of the mirror armed with a razor blade, trying to make the image in the glass connect.

Noctis is twenty years old.

His hands shake as he fills the sink basin with water, warms it with a spark of magic, and wets his face. He raises the blade to his jaw and wills his hands to hold still.

He cuts a thin line into his cheek by mistake and drops the razor in the sink. He brings a finger to the cut and stares at the red dripping from his skin. “Shit.”

Noctis is twenty years old.

Too much time passes. Noct slumps down between the shower cubicle and the sink, head pillowed on his knees. It feels as if someone opened up his ribcage and scooped out everything within. If Noctis weren’t wedged between two solid pieces of furniture, he would surely be floating against the ceiling.

“Noct,” someone knocks on the door to the bathroom. “Are you alright?”

He breathes because because his lungs don’t need his command to do so. He blinks because his eyelids don’t need his command to do so. His blood flows because his heart doesn’t need his command to beat.

Noctis is twenty years old but he _isn’t_ and everything is _wrong_.

“I’m alright Specs,” Noct croaks, pulling himself up from his place on the floor. He meets the gaze of his reflection, bearded and regal even with his scared, young eyes. “I’ll be out in a second.”

Noctis is thirty years old and his beating heart is an abomination against the gods’ doctrine. Against all odds, he still lives. Breathes.

Noctis shaves his face without looking in the mirror.

He misses a spot.

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe if you shave off that beard you’ll look younger...


End file.
